


touch me (and you'll never be alone)

by tigerlilycorinne



Series: AUgust 2020 Short Fic [9]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "Woman of the bedchamber" Maria, But willingly I promise, F/F, Fluff and Smut, PWP with feelings, Royalty AU, pretty much pwp, princess eliza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25614265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigerlilycorinne/pseuds/tigerlilycorinne
Summary: “No, oh please don’t curtsy for me, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, I just…” Eliza hesitates. What is one supposed to do when they run into a maiden sneaking out of their husband’s bedchamber barely clothed and wishes they could take the woman back to their own bedroom? How does a princess conduct herself in that situation? “Why are you… I hope you’re not… he didn’t coerce you, or…”“Oh, no. He’s much too kind for that, even I can tell.” This time, when Maria smiles, it’s no longer a comfort. It’s a bit of a proposition, a bit of a challenge. “I enjoy it.”Eliza hears herself make a sound she didn’t authorize herself to make. “O-Oh?”“If it makes you feel better,” Maria continues relentlessly, “He won’t have me back, I think”“What– will I see you around then, at all?”Maria looks at her with a look of expectancy. “Ifyou’llhave me back,” she says, and Eliza’s knees nearly give out. “What do you say you give me a go tomorrow night and you can choose?”
Relationships: Maria Reynolds/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Series: AUgust 2020 Short Fic [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856617
Comments: 3
Kudos: 67
Collections: AUgust 2020





	touch me (and you'll never be alone)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Taylor Swift's song "...Ready For It?"

Eliza first sees her slipping from Alexander’s bedchamber in the middle of the night. She’s up, embroidering a handkerchief for their first child– Philip, after Alexander’s father. They say it’s improper for a princess to embroider herself, but she wants Philip to have something completely from her, and so she’s up in the middle of the night, quietly taking one of Alexander’s fresh handkerchiefs, unused. They also say naming their first child after Alexander’s father, and not her own father, the late king, is improper. 

That is fine.

She has Alexander, and she has Philip, and she has her kingdom and her quiet moments, and that is enough.

Alexander, on the other hand, is never satisfied. They tumble now and again, whenever Alexander is up for it. Beyond her time with Alexander, though, he has a royal consort, which doesn’t bother her as much as a lot of people seem to think it should. He always assures her she is free to do the same, and though their first few years had been a delight, they’d married for the political power of it; she doesn’t mind that her husband was in love with a soldier he fought beside in war and immediately brought him in as a knight of the bedchamber– or whatever title he’d bequeathed John Laurens. John, in any case, adores Alexander right back, and it makes Eliza feel safer with the feelings that rise to her chest whenever a woman catches her eye.

Like this one. She’s never heard of Alexander taking on a _woman_ in the bedchamber..

“Miss– Miss?” She fumbles her way after the woman in the shadows, her heart catching in her throat when the woman turns. She’s stunningly beautiful. The red of her silk dressing gown seems to glow in the torchlight, her mouth is painted a crimson red to match, and her eyes look like amber jewels, halfway hidden beneath waves of loose hair that falls halfway down her back. 

She understands, suddenly, the exception Alexander has made for this woman– she feels it too. Maybe it’s the forbidden feel of running into this woman in the dead of night, or maybe it’s simply that she’s the most beautiful woman Eliza has ever seen, but a wanting thumps in her chest the way she hasn’t felt since meeting Alexander five years ago, when she was scarcely of seventeen.

“Your Highness.” The woman’s eyes widen, and her hands clutch at her gown a bit tighter as she dips into a curtsy with one hand. Eliza realizes with a start that the gown is the only thing she’s wearing, and that she can see the brown gleam of her skin where the two sides of the robe cross at her chest, the curve of her breast. 

“No, oh please don’t curtsy for me, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you, I just…” Eliza hesitates, aware her voice is fluttering nervously. What is one supposed to do when they run into a maiden sneaking out of their husband’s bedchamber barely clothed and wishes they could take the woman back to their own bedroom? How does a princess conduct herself in that situation? “What were you doing in Alexander’s room?”

 _Stupid, stupid._ What kind of question is that? Isn’t it obvious? Whoever this is will think Eliza’s attempting (clumsily) to shame her. Whoever this is…

“And what’s your name?” Eliza tries not to look down, but the long, slim leg, barely visible in the slit of the nightgown’s side, draws her eyes like a magnet. She struggles to bring her eyes back up to the woman’s beautiful face and is immediately arrested by the jet black of her eyelashes. 

The woman smiles, gently, as if to reassure Eliza, which is ridiculous considering the situation, and Eliza feels herself on the edge of swooning. “Maria Reynolds, your highness. I am… to your husband what John Laurens is as well. But without the sentiment, I suppose.” Even now, standing before the princess barely dressed, Maria Reynolds’ voice is steady and alluringly smooth. It’s surprisingly deep. As if the only thing this woman was made for was to make everyone else go a little bit mad.

“Why are you… I hope you’re not… he didn’t coerce you, or…” Eliza once more drags her eyes back to Maria’s face. “Force you, did he? I’ll have his head–”

“Oh, no. He’s much too kind for that, even I can tell.” This time, when Maria smiles, it’s no longer a comfort. It’s a bit of a proposition, a bit of a challenge. “I enjoy it.”

Eliza hears herself make a sound she didn’t authorize herself to make. “O-Oh?”

“If it makes you feel better,” Maria continues relentlessly, _shamelessly_ , and Eliza can feel herself burning from the inside out, drawn desperately to this confident woman, so sure, now _walking down the hallway_ and _expecting Eliza to follow_. “He won’t have me back, I think. I’m too…” she hums thoughtfully, low in her throat, somehow making it achingly sensual. “Assertive. I think he likes it when you’re meek, and I’m more like him than I am like you, if my impressions of you both are anything to go by.”

“He won’t… have you back?” Eliza already can’t fathom the idea of not wanting this vision of a woman, made of curves and miles of shining skin and sure movements. “What– will I see you around then, at all?”

Maria looks at her with a look of expectancy. “If you’ll have me back,” she says, and Eliza’s knees nearly give out. She stops breathing, for sure, but her heartbeat pounds so fast, it’s nearly all she can feel. “What do you say you give me a go tomorrow night and you can choose?”

Eliza’s steps do falter this time, and Maria pauses for her, as if people go weak from her mere presence all the time. Maria’s a woman who sleeps with other people to make do, and Eliza’s a princess, and somehow it already feels as if Maria’s got Eliza wrapped around her finger.

Eliza thinks she doesn’t mind one bit.

“I… yes, that sounds ac- acceptable, I think.”

If Maria thinks she sounds like a complete fool, and a desperate one– which she is, by now– she doesn’t say so. 

When Maria shows up, she’s still in red, which Eliza appreciates, because she looks stunning in it. All she can do for a moment is stare at Maria, framed in the white stone arch of her doorway, draped in a lacy red gown this time, one that doesn’t exactly cover her skin. Beneath it, Eliza can see the outline of her breasts. Her mouth goes dry.

She suddenly feels so simple, sitting in her large but very plain white bed, all white and in a shift nightgown without even a waistline. Maria’s either a very good actress, or she sees something in Eliza that Eliza doesn’t see in herself, because she’s looking over Eliza with a hungry glint in her eyes. Whatever Eliza had thought earlier about giving this a “try” flies out the window.

If she has a choice, she’s never letting this go.

“Oh god,” she whispers. Maria blinks slowly at her, her lips twisting into a knowing smile, and Eliza knows, then, that Maria is fully aware of exactly how she makes Eliza feel, and she’s never going to stop making Eliza feel this way.

“Hello, Your Highness,” Maria murmurs, coming over to Eliza’s bedside. She speaks the title with no reverence this time, almost teasing, as if it’s something Eliza might be ashamed of. In the light of this bold, worldly-feeling woman in front of her, Eliza even feels it, the little tickle of shame down the back of her neck. How much being a princess has given her, and how much Maria has worked for everything she has, and how entitled and bratty she must seem, demanding this woman bring her pleasure.

“You don’t have to,” she whispers as Maria slips herself onto the bed, gently pushing Eliza’s shoulder down until Eliza’s lying on her back. “I– I can take you to dinner first. And– and–” her train of thought breaks off as Maria runs her tongue along her collarbone. “I– oh Maria, I’ll take you out places, if– if– if you like.”

Maria smiles against Eliza’s throat, red marks from her red lips already decorating Eliza’s shoulder. “That’s quite sweet of you,” she purrs, “I can’t say I haven’t gotten an offer like that before, from people who want to take a hold of me. I told you, I enjoy it. It’s not necessary.” 

Maria’s fingers are long and move with a surety that makes a fire burn in the pit of Eliza’s stomach, hungry and aching. She can feel the need building between her legs. She gasps as Maria’s capable hands run down her sides, dipping down to the edge of her nightgown and stroking the bare calf below it. 

“I– are you sure?”

Maria laughs, a rich sound. “You’re a darling,” she murmurs into Eliza’s ear, sending Eliza’s pulse wild. Then she says, “Roll over,” in such a commanding tone that Eliza scrambles to comply. “Good,” Maria whispers absently.

Eliza feels the gentle tugs against her nightgown as Maria unbuttons the back of it, the air running against her skin as Maria pushes the loose clothing down her shoulders. She helps Maria get her out of it. Somehow, she isn’t the least bit cold, even though she has nothing but her bottoms on and her breasts covered. She feels feverishly warm with desire. 

She watches as Maria slips smoothly out of her own gown, revealing the expanse of skin hinted at from the semi-see-through property of the gown itself. Maria’s name slips softly out of her mouth before she can think, and then Maria’s smiling mouth is capturing hers in a sweet, slow kiss, the warmth of Maria’s body pressed against her, trapping her against the bed and setting Eliza on fire. Their breasts are pressed against each other, nothing but two layers of fabric between them, and Maria’s on her hands and knees over Eliza, one leg between Eliza’s. Eliza’s sure she’s soaking through the fabric of her bottoms.

The kiss is a prequel, Eliza realizes, as Maria’s lips gently part to allow their tongues to sneak out, tangling with a languidness that drains away into an urgency that bleeds into the rest of their bodies like water climbing slowly up a piece of paper. 

Maria tastes of coffee from the luncheon this afternoon, and Eliza finds herself wondering whether Maria spends her time in the kitchens. If she could be convinced to come and kiss Eliza all afternoon instead. She smells of rosebuds and summer air, and some rich perfume that she must have put on before coming up to Eliza’s bedchamber.

The thought that Maria prepared for this makes Eliza tremble with a fresh wave of wanting. Maria must feel this, because she smiles against Eliza’s lips and pulls back. “Are you ready, Your Highness?”

Eliza’s hips move without her permission, her hands reaching up for the curve of Maria’s breast. “Yes,” she whispers. “Take this off,” she tugs at Maria’s bra. “Now, I need you to take it off.”

Maria gives her a considering look. “Do you want to be in charge?”

Eliza swallows around her dry throat, tasting coffee on her tongue. The heat between her legs throbs as she shakes her head.

“Okay,” Maria smiles, once more an invitation, but she unstraps the cloth around her breast anyway. Eliza reaches for them without another thought, feeling the weight of them in her hands, pushing up on her elbows to kiss them, open-mouthed and sloppy. Maria gasps with a short loss of composure for the first time since Eliza met her, and Eliza squeezes her hands around Maria’s breasts with a sound of satisfaction. She wants to chase that little gasp and capture it. 

Whatever loss of presence of mind Maria had momentarily comes back quickly; Eliza feels the pressure on her breasts let up, and then the air, and the warmth of a hand on them, Maria’s other hand occupied propping up Maria over Eliza. She can feel her shortness of breath, hear her gasps in what feels like such a big room now. She feels as if she’s not quite meant to have this mysterious woman, and it only makes her want it more. 

Maria’s body shifts to straddle Eliza’s, and she can feel the dampness of Maria’s desire against her thighs, and it gives Eliza a little thrill of satisfaction. 

“You want me too,” she tries to say around the soft sound that she lets out as Maria thumbs over her nipples, sending jolts down Eliza’s spine. “I can feel it.”

“Of course I do,” Maria grins down at her, catching her hands from where Eliza’s still toying with Maria’s breasts and pinning them against the bed briefly as she leans down to kiss Eliza. “Why do you think I’m here?” 

Eliza opens her mouth to respond, but Maria’s hips move– Maria’s rubbing herself against Eliza’s thigh. Eliza can hardly bear it– her hips are already moving on their own, setting pace with nothing at all, meeting air with every twitch. “Please,” she gasps out into the kiss. “Please, Maria, I– I–” Her fists curl into fists, her wrists tugging. 

Maria lets her up. 

Eliza practically dives for Maria, pushing her backward onto the bed and pulling down her wet red panties clumsily, her fingers too eager to move with precision. Maria’s pink lips gleam, surrounded by dark, short-cropped, curly hair. Eliza pauses for a moment, curious. “You cut your hair?”

“Oh,” Maria breathes from above her, her thighs shaking as Eliza traces the inside of her thigh and then down, right on the edge of where she knows Maria wants her to be. “You really are the most charming little thing.”

“I… haven’t,” Eliza feels compelled to say, a small trickle of shame running down the inside of her stomach.

Maria just laughs and shakes her head, as if to herself. “What am I getting into with you, huh?” she asks. “I’m going to be in love before I know it.” Her voice shakes as Eliza begins to touch her the way she touches herself, lightly, getting the wet all over her fingers, circling, rubbing against the little pink nub. She arches, stomach trembling, moaning higher and higher as Eliza slides in a finger curiously and feels around, in and out. Maria’s hips move in a smooth rhythm against Eliza’s hand, and before long she spills over in an orgasm, coating Eliza’s hand in her slick pleasure.

Eliza watches Maria’s mouth open and close in silent ecstasy as she comes down from it, her hands grasping at Eliza’s shoulders and twisting in her hair. 

She reaches for Eliza. “Let’s get you out of this damn thing, shall we? And we’ll see? How did you even get me on my back, I’m supposed to be the one pleasuring you tonight.” She laughs like she doesn’t expect a response and gestures for Eliza to lie back.

She does, feeling so naked without Maria’s body pressed against her, the burn of Maria’s gaze traveling down her body and centering over the one part of her still covered. She doesn’t remember feeling this much in need of anything, even with Alexander. Goodness, Alexander. Alexander, bless him, was _nothing_ in the face of this.

When Maria pulls down her last item of clothing, she feels achingly, tinglingly bare. Maria pushes her legs apart, spreading them wide open, and Eliza can feel the trail of moisture running down the curve of her buttocks from her sheer desperation, her hips twitching on the blankets as Maria holds her open and gazes at her mound of curls. Shame washes through Eliza in a sudden wave, and it sends shivers down her spine. She clenches around nothing, and Maria can see it in the flex of her thighs. 

“Oh,” Maria whispers, a smile in her voice, pushing Eliza’s legs up and still open, her knees bending up to press against her breasts. “You’re really eager, aren’t you?” 

Eliza tries not to think about how from here, Maria can see all of her, her pink, slick lips and her squirming hips, the taboo hole behind it, twitching with every time she clenches and bucks, no longer in control of herself. Her hair must be a mess against the pillow, mussed by Maria’s hands and tangled up beneath her in her twisting. “Maria, please, _please._ ”

“Hold,” Maria orders, pushing on the backs of her knees. Eliza hurries to grab her legs, holding them as open as she can, her back arching as Maria strokes one single finger down her core, her finger dipping in just the tiniest bit. Maria smooths both her hands up the insides of Eliza’s thighs, as if preparing herself, and leans down. 

Eliza makes a choked sound of protest, thinking Maria will– oh, she doesn’t know– stare right up her channel or something equally humiliating. But no, this is not what Maria does. 

Maria leans down and _licks her_. Wet and warm, two steady hands on her thighs, Maria and her red, red lips essentially _kiss_ her vagina, Maria’s lips closing around the throbbing need between Eliza’s legs, sucking lightly, running a warm tongue all over it, licking at the folds, her lips pulled back again. Pushing, pushing. In, in– _inside Eliza._ There’s a warm, squirming muscle _inside_ of Eliza, and it’s _Maria Reynold’s tongue,_ pressing in questing. 

Eliza is ashamed of the sounds this brings out if her, high-pitched whimpers and moans that chase each other out of her mouth like they can hardly wait for her to catch her breath before coming out again. Liquid feels as if it could spill from her, and self-consciousness once more consumes her as she wonders what she tastes like on Maria’s tongue, whether it’s horrendous, whether Maria is trying her best to bear a slimy, detestable endeavor to gain a princess’s favor.

Even so, she can’t help bucking up into Maria, helpless to stop the automatic reaction of her body. 

Maria moves from between her legs right before Eliza spills over the edge as if she can sense it. Perhaps it’s evident with the way Eliza’s arching into her every move. 

“Elizabeth,” Maria says as Eliza reaches for herself in desperation. “Stop it, come on. You’re a better girl for me than that, I know you can be. Will you let me hold your arms here?”

Maria holds Eliza’s arms above her head, and Eliza can only nod. She could never deny this woman anything, she thinks wildly, trying with all her heart to keep her arms still. She clenches her fists tight. “I– Maria, I can’t–”

Maria shushes her softly, and Eliza opens her eyes long enough to catch sight of the fond smile on Maria’s lips. Maria’s gentle fingers flick lightly over her oversensitive nipples, giving her another jolt. “I’ve got you, princess. I promise.” 

With her other hand, she fingers between Eliza’s legs. One finger. 

Eliza arches, her hips working to take the thin little thing and make it something more. She fights the neediness spilling out of her mouth, embarrassed by her eagerness, but the liquid dripping out of her tells the truth. A second pushes into her with ease, and shame pumps through her veins; she’s so loose with want, so _easy_. 

Maria doesn’t seem to mind. She works in a third finger, pumping in earnest now, in and out and in and out and Eliza is crying out with pleasure, pumping her hips, jerking gracelessly all over her bedsheets. 

“Goodness,” Maria whispers, almost worshipfully. “Would you like four fingers? What’ll it take, hmmm? You’re a hard one to please, Elizabeth.”

“I’m sorry,” Eliza gasps out, incoherent. “I’m sorry, please.”

Maria laughs breathlessly. “Don’t apologize, sugar. You’re fun. I like this very much.” She moves, her hand moving from Eliza’s wrists and her cunt, leaving Eliza burning into the sheets. “One moment, I have what you need.”

She dips beneath the bed. “I put this here cleaning this morning, in hopes you’d be like this. I didn’t dare expect you to be so hungry, but I am sincerely delighted to find you in need.”

Eliza opens her eyes and feels a flush run down the entirety of her body, right down the backs of her thighs. Her feet are now propped up, her knees in the air, her hands clenching above her head, as she fights with all she has not to shove her own fingers inside of herself. She can feel herself clenching, her hips working to meet nothing, and she fists her hands in the pillowcase to keep them away from herself. Even so, she can’t help from pressing her thighs together, trying to give herself any phantom of a sensation where she needs it most.

“Elizabeth, you’re so good for me,” Maria cooed, and Eliza almost comes from those words in Maria’s mouth all on their own. 

She can feel tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, her control faltering. She reaches down. 

“No, Elizabeth, patience.” Maria catches her wrists easily, with strong hands, and puts them back up. 

Eliza looks again.

In her hand, Maria holds the sort of thing lonely wives use on themselves when their husbands were away, long and thick, made of a dark sort of wood, a deeper brown than Maria’s skin. 

“ _Maria!_ ” Eliza gasps, unsure whether to be begging or scandalized or both. “Oh– that won’t– it won’t fit inside _me!_ ”

Maria kisses her trembling stomach, leaving a red mark. Eliza realizes she must’ve gotten her red painted mouth all over her entrance, the very core of her, and then realizes that she’s spilled so much self-lubrication it’s probably gone. She sobs out a plea.

Eliza can feel the hand cupping her need, swiping up all the wet there, the sound of the slick slapping over the wooden object in Maria’s hand. The tip of it, right against her, rounded, pushing in gently. She trembles and tries to hold still, partly in fear she’ll hurt herself if she doesn’t. Pleasure rips through her as the toy goes up, and up, and up, in slow little thrusts. Maria knows what she was doing, whether she practiced on other women, or herself, Eliza doesn’t know, didn’t _care_ as long as she is good at it now, at pushing it in and in and–

“Oh,” she whines, “ _Oh, oh oh._ ” She is kicking out her legs, moaning so loud she’s sure the whole castle can hear her. Maria is working the thick thing in and out of her, moving it inside of her, the slick sounds obscenely loud against the stone walls. “ _Maria_ ,” she finds herself crying out, “ _Maria, Maria, Maria._ ”

“You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Maria says, pushing her legs back and more open. Eliza arches for her, imagining what she looks like spread and speared on a toy thing, her center dripping and swollen and red, her hips bucking with abandon as Maria pulls her hand back and watches. 

With nothing to hold the wooden thing inside her in place, Eliza feels herself shake with sobs of desperation, hears herself begging incoherently, feels herself fight the strong hands around her wrists, barely calmed by the sweet sound of Maria’s deep voice. She’ll never want for anything again, as long as she has this one thing this once, she promises herself, or the thing in the sky, or the thing inside her, or Maria, maybe, she doesn’t know anymore.

Maria takes mercy on her after what feels like years, but has probably only been a couple seconds. She reaches down, lets go of Eliza’s wrists, and holds the toy thing in place. 

Eliza chokes on her sounds, flipping herself over with shaking limbs, too needy to be ashamed as she throws one leg over Maria’s arm and situates herself on her hands and knees for better vantage. Maria’s hand doesn’t move or falter, though Eliza can feel Maria’s eyes on her arched backside as she shoves herself back against the thing inside her, her face in the covers, her arms too weak to hold her. 

“Let go, Elizabeth,” she hears Maria say, and she comes with a scream, waves upon waves of pleasure taking her away until they’re almost painful in their competition to overwhelm her senses. She’s too euphorically high to tell them they already have.

She sees white.

When she comes to, she’s in bed, her sheets around her body and her nightgown back on. When she comes too, she feels clean and fresh. Satisfied. 

When she comes too, there is a beautiful woman with a naughty smile lying by her side, nothing but her breasts and her lower parts covered, though Eliza remembers what they both look like, feel like. She wonders what they taste like. She wonders if Maria will let her find out.

“I must’ve fallen asleep,” she whispers to Maria, trying to slide a hand between her legs to feel without being too obvious about it. She isn’t wet there at all. Someone must have cleaned her. 

With this thought, she’s once more washed in shame. She feels the blooming wetness between her thighs at her own embarrassment.

“No, you lost consciousness,” Maria murmurs, tucking a strand of Eliza’s hair behind her ear. Eliza’s hair is brushed, too, she realizes. “I did tell you I was assertive.”

“He’s tossing you out for _that?_ ” Eliza shakes her head, pushing herself up on one elbow. “His loss, I suppose. My husband is smart in all the wrong ways.”

“And you, in the right ways?” Maria watches her slip out of bed, her gaze still unashamed. It warms Eliza from head to toe.

“Smart enough to ask you to stay,” Eliza says, flushing at the memory of her blushing self, inquiring what Maria was doing the night before the last. How much had happened since then. Nothing, really, she realized, just a tumble in the sheets. But she’d never felt a fraction so good with anyone or anything before.

“Right now? With all due respect, Your Highness, I suppose you’ll need a night or two to regain your balance. Can you not feel it?”

Of course she could feel it. Her whole body was sore, but her thighs especially. Her sex was hungry. Her heart was, too. 

She turned, looking Maria, confident, assertive Maria, up and down. 

“No,” she said. “I meant stay forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> They just keep getting longer and longer, my AUgust fics...  
> Drop by and say hi on Tumblr @[tigerlilycorinne-drarry-me](https://musicals-ship-that-gay.tumblr.com/) or on my main @[tigerlilycorinne](https://tigerlilycorinne.tumblr.com/)


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